This is my first Hunger Games fic, so go easy on me, okay?

"Throw it." My instructor said. "Now."

And I did. I released my knife. It landed just to the left of the bullseye. I wince just before I feel the familiar whack across my back.

"Clove, for the hundredth time. Your parents pay nearly a thousand dollars a week for me to train you. You're seven years old, for God's sake. Why can't you just hit a goddamned target?"

"I'm trying!" I whimpered, trying to fight back tears.

"Oh." She said mockingly. "Baby's going to cry,huh?" She slammed her fist against the wall. "Baby wants to cry?"

She bent over, her long,dark hair touched the floor as she did. I saw what she was holding and backed away slowly from it. Before long,my back hit the concrete wall. I'd never been so afraid of being in a confined space.

Careena - my trainer - had advanced on me, the point of the silver blade smiling at me as if it were welcoming death.

"Go away!" I screamed. My dad was coming... he'd be here in just a moment...

I didn't know if or when he turned up, at that moment, the knife came down. I turned, to protect my face. The seering pain was eating away at my shoulder blade,where the knife had struck.

I was in a pain unfamiliar and unwanted. She dropped the knife next to me and walked away, as if nothing had happened.

"Help..." I called out,feebly.

"If you ever get reaped, make sure you mention my name before you die,okay?"

And she left the building, hips swaying all the way.

I couldn't scream. Nothing but my blood could escape me. I was screaming on the inside. A new heat screamed through my body, but no sound emerged from my lips.

I heard my head hit the floor as I watched my life spill from me. The door opened.

"Daddy?" I asked, though I couldn't be sure if I'd said anything.

I heard a gasp, it was a young boy. My eyes were closing and I couldn't see his face. "Cato..."a woman's voice said. Then she screamed.

I didn't have time to worry about that though. My breathing slowed and I felt in a place of utter bliss. Sooner or later, of course, I'd either be sucked into life or oblivion.

"HAPPY REBIRTH DAY,DARLING!"

I sat up in my bed, groaning as my head throbbed. The night before we'd had alot of alcohol to celebrate my sixteenth birthday.

"Mom, I've told you a thousand times, rebirth day isn't a thing."

"Of course it is, it's the nine year anniversary of when we found out you were alive!"

I just sigh and roll my eyes, ignoring the cupcake she is holding and I head downstairs,headed for the fridge.

My kitchen is pretty unremarkable. I have a large white refrigerator and a matching white stove. All of our counters are made of some kind of stone,but I don't care enough to find out. My dad is sitting on a bar stool, scribbling furiously away at a bit of paper. Once again, I don't really care enough to ask him what's on the paper.

"Morning,clovely." He chuckles to himself.

"Dad, that joke has not been funny for the past sixteen years,why would you think it is now?"

He just shrugs, then goes back scribbling away.

I swing the fridge open, and scan the shelves for anything that looks remotely appetizing. Unfortunately, with the reading coming in two weeks, and enormous pressure from my family to volunteer, I don't have an appetite at all.

I pick up a banana and walk back up the stone staircase into my bedroom. I see in my reflection, perfect evidence, that I look nothing like my mother. Before she went Capitol Crazy and dyed her hair blue and got purple contacts, she had fair blond hair and soft blue eyes. I am the double of my father, who has dark brown hair and gold / Emerald eyes. I do not think I'm very pretty,though I find my dad to be very handsome for a man of 49.

My jaw is slightly square and my forehead is rather large. My ears are tiny and my lips are thin. I'm too small and I don't even have a figure. What I do have, and alot of it, is sass.

I pull my drawer open, setting the banana on the top of my armoire. I change out of my Pyjamas and Into an elastic black vest and sweats, ready to go to the academy for training. I then pull on a grey jacket that covers my shoulders.

I tie my hair into a bun and thud down the stairs.

"Take your sister to the-" Slam! I'd slammed the door before my mom could ruin my rebirth day.

The academy isn't busy today. There are a few kids who are here everyday, but no one else.

I walk straight over to the knife station. Over the years,I've developed a certain taste for knives. I am particularly skilled at throwing knives. I pick one up and launch it at the dummy - over the back of my head. It doesn't miss. I never do.

I move on to a camouflage station. I am getting better at this, I've been trying to perfect it for months.

Cato - The blond idiot everyone knows is going to volunteer this year - is already at the station.

He's tall and powerful, and everyone in their right mind knows not to make him angry. Of course, I haven't been in my right mind since I woke up out of that coma nine years ago today.

"God, you're nearly as bad as me at this!" I laugh, observing the smudged paint on his arm. His lips curve into a smile. Then he looks up.

"You got a death wish, knifey?"

"Heh, knifey. I like it. Anyway, you're volunteering this year, are you not? Seems like a death wish in itself."

He gave a little laugh, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's not a death wish if you know you can win."

He puffs his chest out and holds his chin up.

"Cato, you look ridiculous." I laugh.

He walks towards me, chest still out, then stands pressed against me. He looks down at me, nostrils flared, like he expected me to move. He doesn't scare me though. Nothing does.

"Move, knife girl."

"Make me." I challenge.

His eyes go wild at the thought of a child. In one simple movement, he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

"So knifey." He says, there's a trace of amusement in his voice. "What's your name?"

I start hammering my fists against his back. "Put me down Cato, I'm warning you."

He starts to laugh, my face looks as if there's been a thunderstorm. "You're warning me?"

Slowly, I pull my knife out of my boot - I always have it there. I place it on the back of his neck, pulling it slowly along. He stops laughing and puts me down.

I lean in close to him and whisper "name's Clove, don't forget it."

He is standing up, rubbing the area where I cut him. "Don't worry." He says, as if making me a promise. "I won't."

So guys, like it?

Please review so I know if I should continue.